


Tasting Like Salt

by RaniXani673



Series: The 'In's and 'Out's of You [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crying, Emotional Sex, F/M, Men Crying, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaniXani673/pseuds/RaniXani673
Summary: “I said,” She dislodges them again with a tug of his hair but holds him away from her so she can see his face in the dim light flowing from the kitchen. “Slow…” He looks weird. Like he’d fall apart if she played rough with him. “Ozzie?”“Don’t.” He growls, trying to kiss her again. She doesn’t let him. “Just… Fuck me, please.”
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: The 'In's and 'Out's of You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730758
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	Tasting Like Salt

She’s leaning over the stove when the knock comes.

“Coming!” She flicks off the burner with her bare hand, which is a mistake on her old, half broken gas stove and will probably leave a burn mark, and dumps the plastic spatula into the pan-wok-thing that she cooks everything in.

The knock sounds again, frantic staccato.

“I’m coming!” She calls again as she gets to the deadbolt.

The door swings open, and almost immediately swings closed. Before she has time to react to the fact that she very well might be murdered in the near future, she’s being pressed against the wall of the hallway. There are large, calloused hands trying to remove her shirt while a pair of dry and cracked lips force themselves against her own.

Oscar then. She should’ve guessed.

He lifts her further up the wall with the press of his body, she wraps a leg around his hips to compensate. She threads her digits into his hair and tugs roughly to dislodge him from her mouth and his lips and teeth find purchase in the juncture between her shoulder and neck.

“Hey, hey, hey, slow down,” She mutters into his ear, “Slut.”

He stops his nipping and settles for nuzzling, giving her a chance to reach down and pull her shirt over her head. A hand finds its way up her skirt while she unbuttons the stuffy uniform he often shows up in. She doesn’t remember its purpose, just that it looks better on the floor than his lean chest. He kisses her fiercely again as she reaches for the last button, and she barely gets it undone with this distraction.

“I said,” She dislodges them again with a tug of his hair but holds him away from her so she can see his face in the dim light flowing from the kitchen. “Slow…” He looks weird. Like he’d fall apart if she played rough with him. “Ozzie?”

“Don’t.” He growls, trying to kiss her again. She doesn’t let him. “Just… Fuck me, please.”

“You’re a mess, Ozzie.” But as concerned as she is, comfort isn’t her place. He came to her for sex, as he always does. That’s her job. It won’t make him feel better, she knows that, he knows that. But that’s their wheelhouse. “But not messy enough, Slut.” She takes control, yanking at his hair, biting his lip, scratching his chest and back. He moans into her and reaches higher up her skirt, but she grabs his hand as one of them reaches her ass.

“Hng?” The noise sends a vibration through her mouth and nose. She leans back and he whimpers at the loss.

“Bed, now.” She orders, securing herself in place on his chest and trying to leave the worst hickey she can.

Reaching her bed in her studio apartment is not necessarily a feat of athletic excellence, but Oscar pants like he ran a mile. Maybe that’s the adrenaline pulsing through him, but upon closer inspection, his breath hitches, his chest quivers. She has second thoughts about whether this is the right thing to do.

He kisses her again and she doesn’t have much of a choice.

She rolls them, digging her fingers into the soft part between his collarbones to force him to follow. He lifts his hand to beside on second nature, this play isn’t new to him.

“What a good Slut.” She drags her teeth down his chest and stomach before reaching his belt buckle. He whimpers when she pulls away and she shushes him. Usually she’d add an insult or a punishment, but she doesn’t thing he could handle it tonight.

With his belt undone, pants down and dick freed, she crawls back up to his mouth to kiss him again, unclipping her bra as she stretches out atop him. He tastes like salt. His breathing is off. His body jerks and she mistakes it for him grinding against her. She breaks apart slowly, leaving him leaning into the space she vacated.

“Eager, aren’t we?” She slides back down his toned, naked body and wraps him in one of her hands. He squirms more and she feels the rush. “Want me to make you feel good?” He’s not her slut anymore. He’s her pet. Not that she’d tell him that little detail just yet.

She hardly waits for his affirmative whimper before she takes him into her mouth. He still tastes like salt. His breathing is still off. His body still jerks. Her body reacts accordingly, dragging her hands up and down his legs to stop her from groping her tits.

“Ray… Rayne!” She almost misses him, too caught up in the moment. “Stop. Stop, stop, stop please!”

His legs bend up and nearly hit her in the head as she springs up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oscar? You ok?”

“I…” He sits up and puts his face in his hands, dick still raised at half mast. She keeps kneeling in between his legs, tits hanging out and nipples so hard they could cut diamonds. He tasted like salt. His breathing was off. His body jerked.

Her slut, pet, whatever he was right now, Oscar, was sobbing right in front of her. This was not their wheelhouse.

“Want some water?” But fuck, she could try.

He nodded, so she stood from the bed, grabbed a discarded shirt from the floor to shield her from the cold of her apartment, and padded into the kitchen. She ignored the pasta sauce for now, she could come back to that, while she found the cleanest glass she could and filled it with tap water. The glass found a home in a shaking hand and she watched as he took a hesitant sip.

“… Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” She dropped onto the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, staring out the window of her apartment into the concrete building directly next door.

Yeah. She could try. Sex or pasta, or maybe both, could happen once Oscar could breathe like a normal person.


End file.
